Chapter 15
Whiffs of love
JIMMY
“Urgh! Why does this have to be so complicated?”
Kiron pinches my arm. “Stop griping like a child.”
“Yeah, bro. Someone with one lakh rupees in his bank account should not be whining.” Kenny joins Kiron.
I swear these two are some kind of twins from different mothers. “You are not the one who has to read this sappy stuff. For God's sake, who fills a stranger's house with rose petals to woo them? Hear this.”
I read the lines in a high-pitched tone.
“Ooh, he is so soothing to the eyes. And the manly smell. If only I could bottle him up...”
“Romance, dear. These are expressions of love. Take, for instance, all Hindi commercial movies. You find the hero and heroine breaking into a song on the streets every thirty minutes. How many of us prance around trees with our lovers in real life?” Aditya snaps.
“Ooh, someone is itching for some romance.” I tease him with a wink. He slams his glass on the table and walks off. Oops, I tickled my tiger.
“You are an idiot.” Kiron pinches me again. “He is trying to help you.”
“Ouch! Stop hurting me. I was only joking.” I swing away to avoid the hand with bright red fake nails moving in my direction.
“Don't be a goof. Go make up with Aditya.” Kiron shoos me out of their living room.
The four of us gathered to review the book copy Priya sent after I signed the contract last week. The book I am supposed to have authored. I never read, and romance is the last thing on my mind. I would rather watch Pari, the horror film, than Maine Pyar Kiya.
The gang, though, is serious about this stuff.
A schedule has been devised and shared on the WhatsApp group chat; each is coaching me on a different aspect.
Kiron and Kenny are my grooming and etiquette specialists.
Wednesday is their designated day. Brian teams up with Kenny for English lessons on Monday, as foot traffic is lower at their bakery.
Aditya and I will work on Saturdays to go over the book and develop my backstory.
The group will not let me rest. Sunday afternoons are booked with Sudhanshu and Sahil to grill me on all my learnings from the week.
“Hey, I'm sorry.” I pull Aditya against my chest, resting my chin on his shoulder, aligning our cheeks. He stiffens and tries to move away, but I hold him tight. “Addy, please don't be upset with me. I will take things seriously going forward.” My kiss on his cheek relaxes him.
He turns and faces me. “Jimmy, I don't mind the fun, but we have only a month to get you ready before your first talk show with the book blogger.”
“Yeah. I promise to finish reading chapter sixteen before the evening. What did you call the first part?” Aditya showed me a YouTube video about writing novels.
“The first act of the story. The part where an author introduces the protagonists, creates a hook to entice the reader, and starts putting together the first signs of conflict in their relationship.”
“So, did our fight last week mark the end of the first act?” His breath hitches when I lower my head and nip the nape of his neck.
Aditya is so bossy when he falls into the teaching mode.
“Will you explain in more detail, sir? I would be grateful for some extra classes. One-on-one tutoring, only you and me.” I coo into his ears.
“Harrumph!” Kiron stands at the door. “Naughty boys. I sent you to make up, not make out.”
Aditya shoves me aside and jumps to stand a foot apart, flustered at being caught. “I—I—We—” he stammers.
“Honey.” Kiron places their manicured hand on Aditya’s shoulder.
“We are all adults here. I came to call you for lunch.” Kiron combines the exaggerated flutters of their false eyelashes with their devilish smile.
“Only if you are still hungry for food.” They wink, waving a finger between Aditya and me.
We follow Kiron inside, my hand on Aditya's waist. When Kenny smiles at the two of us, he tries to squirm away, but I pull him into me, joining us at the hips.
“Ah, the young love birds.” Kenny rests his chin on his hands and flutters his eyelashes like a cartoon character.
“Shut up.” Aditya manages to extricate himself from me. “Behave.” He glares at the two of us before walking off to help Kiron in the kitchen. They return with the dishes after a while. All four of us take our seats at the dining table and dig into the food.
The cool mountain breeze wafts through the open windows.
We eat amid intermittent bird calls, the glow of the afternoon sun filtering into the room.
I rub my thigh against Aditya, relishing the warmth of his touch.
The banter tickles my bones. My chest swells at the moment’s serenity.
My heart is elated and at peace. I am amongst friends.
I glance at Aditya, catching his eye. He smiles. Are these the first whiffs of love?
***
ADITYA
I nearly blew my gasket at Jimmy's judgmental words.
This book reading will be a barefoot walk on a cobbled stone path.
Kiron and Kenny are already lined up to read my novel after Jimmy.
Advanced reader reviews are welcome, but the comments from this circle of friends are too up in my face.
I will have to digest their unfiltered views, delivered without any pretence or consideration for my sentiments. The trauma serves me right.
“Isn't the tree pretty?”
Jimmy draws my attention to a deodar tree in our path. The trail bifurcates around the thick stem, reaching the sky. Extensive branches spread above the path, allowing sunlight to trickle down, creating a mosaic of light and shadows.
He pulls me near. “Want to dance with me?”
I am confused, but the smirk on his face makes me realise what he is trying to do. “Who dances around trees?” I show my indignation by planting my hands on my hips.
“But you are a romantic, aren’t you? Come on, indulge me for a bit. I will sing a song.” Jimmy pouts.
“No. I don't want to scare the wildlife with your braying.”
Before he reacts, I run away from him.
“What?” Jimmy shouts and follows me up the slight incline. By the time I reach the top, I am breathless. He, though, doesn't break a sweat. Instead, he picks me up from the waist and swirls around.
“Stop. Please stop.” I wriggle out of his hold, laughing, but the momentum causes me to stumble and fall with my back to the mountainside.
Jimmy lands on me, his hands on either side of my head. “Who is braying now?” He kisses me.
A thick drop of rain splatters on my specks, drawing me from this lust-filled haze.
Shit, what were we about to do? This trail beyond my house is not well-travelled, but I have seen an occasional villager crossing this way.
Jimmy lowers his face again, but I push him and stand.
“Jimmy, we should be careful. What if someone sees us?”
He ignores my warning and traces his knuckle on my cheek.
“Don't worry. No one walks down this trail.”
The raindrops fall, saving me from my worries. “Well, the Gods are saying otherwise. We better hurry home.”
Jimmy extends his palm and gathers the falling raindrops. He turns to me. “Race you to your home.” He dashes off.
“Oh yeah!” I chase after him. The slight decline helps my momentum.
We reach my house, soaked in the rain, and with mud splattered all over our clothes.
“So, did the walk and run take care of your bloated stomach?” I ask Jimmy between our loud panting.
He had overindulged in the aloo-matar curry and parathas Kiron and I had made for our group lunch.
He pushes me to the door and smothers my face with kisses. His long, damp hair drips water from his forehead. Our faces are wet, making the kisses loud and sloppy.
“Inside.” I push him away and fumble to open the door.
We stumble in and go for each other's clothes.
They are wet and cling to our bodies, taking extra effort to pull them off, but the need for skin-on-skin contact keeps our hands moving.
We help each other out till both of us are naked.
Jimmy gathers me in his arms. The damp skin, acting as glue, seals our bodies together, setting off a fire of lust.
His kisses are like lighting a fuse. I can either kindle this growing heat and keep myself warm or let the flames turn into an inferno.
My midlife crisis has the perfect combination of dry wood, sawdust, and leaves.
One foot in the closet, a broken marriage, and loneliness are enough to light a raging forest fire.
Only one outcome is possible. A wasteland of dead, darkened stumps bereft of any green shade of companionship.
Or any chance of the blooms of love. No Buransh flowers to carry me through the rest of my life.
I cannot control the situation, threatening to get out of my hands.
The air is already blowing in the wrong direction with this entire fake author act.
“Your mind is busy. Should I go?” Jimmy whispers in my ear.
I squeeze him tighter. Let me live for a bit if the coming days, weeks, or months are all I have with him.
“Clean. Food and bed.” I list the order of our priorities. Jimmy chortles and picks me up, carrying me to the bathroom.